


A wave that never breaks

by LithiumReaper



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: I blame thicc Ian, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, and his nips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 14:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30056712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LithiumReaper/pseuds/LithiumReaper
Summary: Mickey loves being able to touch and taste and fuck Ian whenever he wants.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 15
Kudos: 157





	A wave that never breaks

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I have nothing to say really. It's straight up introspective porn. That's a thing, right? All thanks go to gallavich_scrapbook on insta. Without our discussion about Ian's nipples, this would never have been written. 
> 
> Title from High Diving by A Day To Remember.
> 
> Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own. Kudos and concrit most welcome.

There’s an oppressive heat throughout the room, the first rays of morning light inching into the room through threadbare curtains probably older than Mickey. His breathing is elevated. He feels flushed, certain that there are spots of colour high on his cheeks. The _fuck you expect,_ he thinks to himself, _with a dick like that so far up your ass that you can taste in in your throat._ Mickey looks down at Ian, spread out beneath him like a birthday present he never received as a child. Ian’s watching him lazily. He has that infuriating smirk on his face, like he knows what he’s doing to Mickey.

Mickey leans forward, fingers digging into Ian’s pectoral muscles. His nails are bitten to the quick, but if he presses just right, digging his fingers in as much as he can, he’s able to leave little half-moon indentations on Ian’s chest. He loves this. He loves being able to touch and taste and fuck Ian whenever he wants. 

Mickey slides his right hand down over Ian’s nipple, thumb nail catching on the nub, pressing in hard. Ian has a hold of his hips, squeezing the soft flesh every now and then. Mickey’s thighs are spread, knees tucked close to Ian’s ribs. His dick dips toward Ian’s belly and he twists his hips, rubbing his dick against the freckled skin beneath him.

_“Fuck,”_ he moans as Ian thrusts once.

“Pay attention, Mick.” Ian whispers around that infuriating smirk of his. “Gotta be quiet, remember.” Their flimsy accordion door is absolutely useless at keeping noise out of their room; much less keep their fucking contained.

“Fuck you.” He gets a slow drag of fingers over his hole in retaliation. Ian won’t move though, won’t fuck up into Mickey. He wants Mickey to ride him, whispered it into his ear as he opened Mickey up with slicked up fingers rubbing against his prostate. They never did this _before_ , never took their time with each other. It was all about getting off as hard and quick as possible. Now though, now Mickey can look his fill and not be scared that anyone will see him looking at Gallagher like the kid had hung the fucking moon or something. Now he lets Ian take his time fingering him open with that fancy strawberry shit he likes. He doesn’t even bitch about his ass smelling like a fucking fruit basket most days. Well, he doesn’t bitch _much._

The hand still on Mickey’s hip slides past his dick and up his belly. Ian’s pushing him back and Mickey’s hands have to relinquish their hold on Ian’s pecs. “Lean back,” he says, “I wanna watch you.” and Mickey goes. He’s known for long enough that he’ll do anything Gallagher asks of him. Putting on a show while they fuck is nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

Mickey rolls his hips, moving his hands to Ian’s thighs. He digs his fingers into the meat under his palms and rolls his hips again, lifting up slightly before sinking back down again. Pride blooms in his chest as Ian bites his lip. He knows that Ian likes to watch him, watch his cock slide _in_ and _out_ of Mickey’s hole. 

Sometimes Mickey likes watching Ian, when it’s quiet in the house and the morning light hasn’t chased both of them out of bed. Mickey thinks of the gangly kid Ian was when they started fucking. His eyes trace up Ian’s abdomen, where streaks of Mickey’s own pre-cum is smeared around Ian’s naval, up his stomach where he’d bitten into the flesh just last night. He lingers on Ian’s pecs and those tight nipples, thinks of how he’d had to avert his eyes at breakfast because Ian’s fucking tits had been too much of a distraction and they couldn’t afford to scramble back upstairs for a quick fuck.

“Mick.” Ian’s hands are back on Mickey’s hips and he’s twitching beneath him. He squeezes around Ian’s dick in a _don’t-rush-me-bitch_. Maybe later he’ll wrap his lips around Ian’s nipples while he jerks him off in the back of the ambulance. Maybe he’ll dig his nails into the soft flesh as Ian fucks him into the mattress after dinner, might even wrap his legs around Ian’s back. Maybe he’ll dig his fingers into Ian’s ass, dip between the cheeks to brush over his hole. Maybe he’ll whisper how Ian’s made for him, how he fills Mickey up so well, how he loves the drag of Ian’s cock against him, _inside_ him.

Maybe.

But for now, Mickey thinks, he’ll ride his husband as morning dawns and soft light splays itself over his husband. _His_ fucking _husband_. And if he’s a little more enthusiastic, just to watch those tits jostle with each movement, well now, that’s between Mickey and his maker.

:::


End file.
